


Dreams of the Garden

by orphan_account



Category: Aladdin (1992), Beauty and the Beast (Disney) (1991), Cinderella (1950), Little Mermaid (1989), Mulan (1998), Pocahontas (1995), Sleeping Beauty (1959), Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, Fairy Tales, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, Orgy, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Smut, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has begun to dream about a garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams of the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, look. I don't even know. Don't ask.
> 
> It's some kind of commentary on the "Disney Princess" line anyway. With girlpiles. It may ruin your childhood.

Some years after her marriage Belle began to have a recurring dream of a sunny garden, of fresh green rolling hills under a cloudless sky. There never seemed to be nighttime in the garden, nor any end to the meandering pathways and bridges going over streams and ponds and around arrangements of magnificent flowerbeds. The only buildings were gazebos littered around the grounds, though on occasion the suggestion of an outline of a castle could be seen in the distance.

There was an aura of peace in the garden. Other women wandered through it too, dressed, as she was, in their finest ballgowns glittering with jewels and golden silk. It was as if she had walked into a storybook setting, but couldn't make out the plot.

She told Adam about it on occasion, but as the dream was always the same, his attention soon began to wander to bacon and buttered bread and from there on to his latest project of charity or diplomacy. She loved him for his good works, of course, though it left her to spend most of her days alone, walking through the hallways of the castle or immersing herself in books in the great library, missing the heat and size of his body next to her.

One evening she fell asleep on the animal skin rug before the bed, it's rough fur and the heat of the fire reminding her of the old days, and slowly became aware of the garden around her. The fur had become grass, the golden light of the fire the bright white of sunlight. She rose. 

One of the other women was looking at her, the one with olive skin and masses of silky hair that slithered down her silk-wrapped body. This was the one Belle named Scheherazade. The woman smiled. She was dazzlingly beautiful.

'You've been skulking around on your own long enough,' she said in perfect French – or was it? It seemed to be no specific language at all, but Belle understood every word. 'Come – meet the others!'

Confused but excited, Belle took her hand and let herself be helped up. She dusted grass and leaves from her dress and hurried after the other young woman, who was laughing as she ran with ease across the grass in her flimsy trousers. How lovely she was, and how free! Belle gathered her skirts and tried to keep up, wanting nothing so much as to drop it and run naked through the garden. Who was here to see it, anyway, but the women?

They arrived at the top of a knoll, the air filled by a flurry of dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. As it passed she could see the others gathered at the foot of the hill, sitting around in a gazebo and on a park bench by a little lake. She thought she saw a large glittering fish flash in the lake and dive in. The Arabian led her down and the women all rose, one by one. Some were little more than girls, but they all hugged her one by one, their smiles sweet and welcoming. Aurora, Snow, Mulan, Cindy – every name more strange and exotic than the other. The woman who'd found her introduced herself as Jasmine. 

It was only when they began to talk of their families that Belle realized who they were. 'I've read about you!' she exclaimed. 'All of you! I know your stories!'

They all fell quiet then, and the mermaid surfaced, too, her red hair plastered over her face, dripping on the ornamental rocks set around the lake, her blue eyes troubled.

'No,' said the girl called Snow. She was little more than a child. 'You don't know our stories – not the way we lived them.'

So they began to tell them. Aurora described the helpless need she'd felt flash through the castle when the dragon fell, the death throes that invaded her still sleep and made her tremble on her bed, long before the prince found her and claimed her still mouth. Ariel spoke of the phantom pain of split legs and shards of glass in the feet she never had when she dreamed. Jasmine spoke of her own beast, her pet tiger, and of copulating with her gutter prince thousands of feet in the air, the wind whipping at their hair. Finally, haltingly, Belle told them about the Beast, and how she missed the large rising and swelling of his chest, the roughness of his fur against her face; how disappointed she was when her hand searched for him and found only Adam's bare chest.

They all gathered around Belle to smile and pet her comfortingly. It was then that Mrs Potts found her lying on the rug and soon fussed her up and awake and into her own bed.

'I dreamed of the garden again,' said Belle to Adam when he came in shortly after. She had not been able to go back to sleep. 

'Did you?' he said and kissed her forehead as he began to undress. 

'I spoke to the women this time.' 

'And what did they say?' He sat on the bed to undo his boot laces.

'They told me stories,' was all she could bring herself to say.

With his low rumble of his snore next to her, she captured sleep again.

Belle stood before the lake and, longing for its cool waters, began to undress herself. There was no sign of the others. 

She undid her bodice and let it fall on the hoops of her dress, then undid three more layers of laces to lift off the whole of her dress and petticoats. Then off came the hoops, the corset – and there she had to struggle, usually having Adam or a servant's help to do it – and finally the bloomers. She stood naked in the warm summer breeze and sunk a toe into the cool, shady waters, then splashed into the water. She dived once to wet her hair and swam around the lake, avoiding the lilies, diving again to chase silvery-backed fish that darted away fast as thought. 

As she surfaced she looked around. There was still no sign of the other women. 'Jasmine!' she called out. No-one came. She ducked beneath again, holding her breath, admiring the yellow-green-blue shifting light underwater.

There was a bubbling that was almost like a giggle underwater, and a flashing of a larger tail. Belle surfaced again for air, and then dived to chase the mermaid, going deeper in towards the middle of the lake. There was no sign. She was just about to go up for air when a flash swam bubbling all around her, strong and fast, green and glinting, red and bright. She laughed herself, got a mouthful of water and struggled up, coughing and spurting. Ariel surfaced next to her, exclaiming, 'Are you all right? I'm so sorry!' 

'No, it's all right,' Belle gasped. 

'Are you sure? It's just, you see, I sometimes forget...'

'It wasn't your fault!' Belle laughed.

'I shouldn't play with humans,' said Ariel, hanging her head, and dipping below to swim circles around Belle in an agitated manner. 

Belle dived just to stop her and bring her back to surface. The girl's arms were so thin, her skin so elastic and cold. 'I want you to play with me!' she said firmly.

Ariel smiled, then, bit her lower lip, and darted a look around the empty garden. Then she wrapped her arms around Belle and kissed her, small tongue slipping in between her lips.

In the morning Belle said nothing about her dream, though it stayed with her, vivid as the day. She wandered through her own garden that day, her eyes seeing different trees, different clouds, ones that hung sparse above a world where nothing ever changed.

She spent much of the day reading in the great library, in pools of light shafting through the high windows, sitting on the floor in the upper levels with a book open on her lap – Austen or Trollope or Marlowe. In the afternoon she helped her father in his studio, building a kitchen that would cook its own meals, while some of the kitchen staff hovered anxiously around, Mrs Potts livid for this invasion into her sphere by cogs and wheels. No explanation of reduction of working hours would move her. She only calmed down after dinner and came upstairs to help Belle unlace, as Adam was working late again and the princess wanted an early night. She sunk into the bedclothes, hungry for the summer air of the garden. 

A blink, and she was there. She turned around and saw she was standing at the foot of the gazebo. There was no-one else in sight, but the decorative stones showed fresh wet splashes that indicated the little mermaid had been around recently. She looked around, listened to the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves. There was a sharp intake of breath and a bump. 

Belle twirled around. The sound had come from the gazebo, which had high enough half-walls around it that she could not see its floor. Carefully she rounded it to the short flight stairs and saw Mulan's whiplike form undulate, naked, in the arms of Jasmine, whose fingers stabbed up repeatedly between Mulan's legs. Mulan's mouth was open and gasping, her hands lost in the free-flowing mass of Jasmine's hair.

Belle woke with a start, the room black and empty before her. Her skin was tingling, and she closed her eyes again, grasping for the dream, letting it pull had back in. 

Aurora was pinned against the side of the gazebo, her bodice pulled down, round pink breasts emerging from the blue, her dress hitched up. Cindy on her knees in front of her, her arms full of Aurora's dress, her head buried between Aurora's thighs. Belle watched them, unashamed, not even startled, as it is only possible to be in dreams. Aurora moved so deliciously against the white-painted wood, her always flawless locks tangling, her eyes closed, her face flushed, a sweet smile on her lips. How beautiful she was! Cindy's arms encircled her, held her still, her head moving slightly. Belle wanted to know what she was doing; wanted to do it herself. Her hands went to her bodice laces. She knew she wouldn't be denied – not here. This was the perfect place – a true dream world. 

'Let me help,' came a voice from the lake. Ariel was sitting by the lake, smiling bright as the sun, her tail splashing in the water. Belle sat down next to her and let her help her out of her pinching clothes. The silk and satin brushed the lake water and their colours ran, but Belle couldn't care less. As the corset released her, Ariel's fingers played over her skin, her brown raised nipples. Belle shivered. Ariel grinned and lay her hand palm open on Belle's breast. Belle bit her lower lip when Ariel flicked a thumb over her nipple, and gasped when she rolled it. 

Ariel's mouth soft and sweet like a day in the sun. She gently pushed apart Belle's legs. 

Her touch was light, her fingers nimble, and Belle choked back a plea for more. More there was; much more. Ariel's lips brushed her neck, her chin, closed around her nipple with a flick of tongue and a nip of teeth and then there was a thumb on Belle's pearl, a pair of lakewater-slick fingers pressed tight against the top of her passage and she fell back, her hair mixing with grass, an acorn under her shoulders, her back arching, Ariel's kisses hot on her belly.

'My sweet,' she breathed, but Ariel's mouth was fastened on her pearl now, and she knew what Cindy had been doing. It _was_ just as she had read, and she buried her fingers into Ariel's mass of red hair to pull her face closer, to urge her to continue. So soft this touch was and so lovely beyond compare; it was not long before she came, with a whimper and a buck of her hips that lifted them clean off the ground and held them there, suspended between air and Ariel, and it was just like a wave crashing into the beach.

Just like she had read.

She lay in the grass panting, naked, her feet in the cool water, her face hot under the sun, while Ariel continued to kiss her legs. 'Come,' said the mermaid, and Belle let herself be pulled into the water. They splashed and laughed until Belle began to wash. She submerged herself and, emerging, shot a guilty glance towards where Aurora and Cindy had been, but they were gone, having left only their gowns on the ground. She could see the entangled shapes of Mulan and Jasmine still lying in the gazebo, a brown slim hand petting silky black hair.

'So, is this the sort of thing you do all the time here, then?' she asked Ariel.

'Actually, this is the first time,' said Ariel, swimming lazily but happily around her. 'You see, none of the others brought sex, not even me.'

'What do you mean?'

'In the garden there is only ever what the dreamers bring into it. I brought the lakes. Aurora brought the castle. Snow brought the birds, and Cindy, I think, brought loneliness. Jasmine brought courage, and Pocahontas brought the wind. You brought sex.'

'But why?' 

'Don't ask me, sweetheart,' said Ariel, stretching deliciously, water falling in rivulets down her small breasts. 'It's something you love and know, or maybe miss, or you would not have brought it.'

Belle laughed. 'Then who brought the corsets? I can tell you they are not a thing I love!'

Ariel ducked below, swam around for a moment, and resurfaced with a troubled expression. 'I shouldn't tell you,' she said, 'but you should be warned.'

'What? What about?'

'It was them,' said Ariel, swimming closer, and grasping Belle's arms. There was fear in her eyes. 'They're the ones who said we must wear corsets. They're the ones who take Mulan and Pocahontas away sometimes, for the wind songs and the war they brought. They're the ones who took away Kida. We've never seen her again, or Elena. Please – don't do anything to anger them.'

'But who are they?' cried Belle.

'They live in the castle,' replied Ariel and dived.

The ground rumbled, the waters rose in a sudden swell of wave and clouds sped across the sky. A scream stuck in Belle's throat as the world went black.

-

'Are you quite well, my love?' asked Adam with concern over the breakfast. There was no paperwork this morning, just the two of them and the meal that was set between them. Sunlight filtered through the tall French windows into the parlor. 

Belle's hand shook as she lifted the delicate porcelain cup of coffee. 'I did not sleep well, I think,' she replied.

'I hope you don't feel like you must wake early just because I do,' he said, laying his large hand over her little one. She smiled at him, looked into the gentle eyes she'd fallen in love with, touched his cheek, and denied everything.

After breakfast she excused herself with a headache and went back to bed. It was nearing midsummer and the day was hot and sweaty. She tossed and turned on the bed, wrapping herself into moist bedsheets. She got back up to lock the door and strip off her nightgown to sprawl naked on the silky mess she'd made.

She blinked and the sun was hot on her face, a trickle of sweat on her brow. Another blink and there was a cool wind under a brilliant blue sky, grass tickling her back, and a dark shape between her and the sun.

'Ariel?' she asked, but as the shadow shifted she saw it was Jasmine, her soft eyes fevered, her lips parted. Belle had barely time to react before Jasmine kissed her, her limbs entangling with hers. Belle wore no clothes this time, nor did Jasmine. Jasmine's nipples were dark and large. Sweat trickled down her side and made her lean form gleam.

Jasmine's fingers were warm as they sneaked downwards across Belle's sides. They made her shiver. 'Yes,' said Belle, 'yes, more, please, now.' 

She felt other hands on her neck, then, gathering her hair and pushing it aside, and saw blonde hair falling across her shoulder, tickling her. Cindy had undone her bun. Her lips were light and cool on Belle's neck. She bent back towards her, shivering with the combined light touches of warm and cold. 'Oh please, more,' she gasped. 

Mulan's small hand snaked in between her and Jasmine just as Jasmine's tongue began to swirl around Belle's nipple. Belle saw Mulan smile impishly before she kissed Belle, her tongue softly probing, her fingers finding Belle's other nipple and twisting it, teasing it. 'Oh, more!' Belle gasped against Mulan's sweet little mouth.

Cindy lay Belle down on her back in the grass as Jasmine slid down her body, searching out secrets. Mulan straddled her, and Belle pulled her up, up and up until she had access to shove her tongue in between Mulan's folds. They were soft and pungent and salty. The sun shone a blinding white behind her, turning her undulating body into shadow, silhouetting her open mouth, until the shadow of Cindy moved to merge with it.

There was a new mouth on her nipple – and another on the other – Pocahontas? Aurora? Ariel? Belle could not know. The air moaned and steamed and twisted around her in flesh and pleasure. Sparks appeared at the edges of her vision. Belle was lost to the taste of salt and come, tickling hair on her skin, wet hair plastered against sweaty skin, a clever tongue plucking at her pearl, clever fingers in her hidden places, and the sun beating down on them all. 

There was a cry of pain. Belle's eyes opened wide. The sun was swallowed black rolling clouds and thunder cracked through the electrified air. She could feel the first raindrops begin to fall on her face, a chill wind blowing. The women separated, looked up, bewildered and frightened.

'It's them!' cried Snow White, who stood full-dressed on the steps of the gazebo, her face streaked with tears. 'Oh, I knew you shouldn't have! They'll take us all away now!' She sat down, breathing laboriously. In the sudden gloom her skin was white as death.

'No,' said Jasmine, her eyes widening. 'Oh no, what have we done?'

'What's happening?' asked Belle. 

Aurora lifted her right hand. A red drop of blood was blooming on her finger. 'Please! Oh no, please, no!' With a keening cry she collapsed on the ground, still as death, a greenish tinge blooming at the corners of her mouth.

'What are they doing?' asked Belle, suddenly feeling naked and cold, holding her arms crossed over herself, suddenly feeling as naked as she was. The rain was coming down harder now and there was the dark shape of the castle looming behind its curtain.

'It's our stories,' said Jasmine, stunned. 'They're not just taking us away.'

'What is going on?' cried Belle. 

'They're casting us back into our first stories.' Even as Belle watched, Jasmine's horrified eyes grew glassy. A red line appeared on her neck, expanded and stretched until the gash fell open and her head toppled off her body. Black hair coiled on the grass, and her body slumped after it.

Belle screamed. 

Snow White was coughing, gurgling, choking. Cinderella's eyes were wide, staring. 'Their feet. Oh my sisters. Their eyes,' she was saying over and over. 

There was a splash and a wordless gurgle. Ariel had climbed out of the lake. She had legs, but her feet were bloody, and she looked up at Belle with terror on her face, opening and closing her mouth as in speech, but no sound came out.

Belle looked at her own hands and saw the imprints of shackles on her wrists.

The princess woke up gasping and shivering. A cool wind was blowing from the open windows, sending the curtains billowing. Outside, as in the garden, thunder rolled.

She got up and wrapped a heavy robe around her. Not caring, now, for modesty, she made her way to the great library. Her husband found her hours later by the fireplace, stacks of books around her. 

'My poor friends,' she muttered as she lay down the book she'd been studying to give him a forced smile, her face closed. She would not say any more of it.

She never dreamed of the garden again. Life went on much as it had. She read, ate with the prince, went to and organized the few rare balls, helped her father, squeezed into and struggled out of corsets day after day. Except...

The servants became fewer. Those who remained didn't seem to remember ever having been cutlery or pottery. There were no more songs. Her father left his studio untended, instead riding out to the city often, on business, he said. There were lucrative markets to be explored.

One night when the prince roared and threw the pitcher at the wall she could no longer escape the truth. She knew what it was that had happened. She knew somewhere there was a book in which she was a character; a book in which her father was a merchant and the Beast had no name, nor any love to tame. 

Somewhere, Snow White was smiling while her mother danced in red-hot iron shoes.


End file.
